The Pieces of My Heart Are Shattered
by ghostlywhitedirewolf
Summary: Beth is a nurse in her father's veterinary clinic. She's used to helping with runny noses and vaccinations, nothing too life threatening. Enter Daryl Dixon, an enforcer in the local gang who apparently has the ability to bleed into every part of her life, as well as all over the floor.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

-o-

 ** _"Oh my little bird what have you done?_**

 ** _Fell in love with Mr. Setting Sun._**

 ** _So beautiful you made the sky your own,_**

 ** _then it disappeared left you alone."_**

-o-

Beth had always been a firm believer that what was meant to be will be. Life at the animal clinic had taught her that; sometimes the worst and best things happened for a specific reason at a specific time. Like when little old Jean had come in to inform them of the death of her old dog and had fallen in love with a stray that was being handed over. After a thorough health check and the seven day claiming period, the scruffy little mutt trotted off home with her, fondly dubbed Tramp.

She had seen life and death come through their doors, cases of extreme violence and cruelty mixed together with moments of pure unadulterated love. She had seen both the best and worst of humanity in some of those moments, and both had taken her breath away in completely incomparable ways. People entered and left Greene's Veterinary Hospital in different states, some relaxed after a routine checkup, some relieved to discover that their only form of companionship was indeed healthy, some elated after their prayers for a miracle had been answered, some heartbroken and leaving with only the ghost of a memory to follow behind them.

But sometimes a being so broken would enter the building looking for solace that it was impossible to know what the best course of action was. Was it cruel to allow their suffering to continue, or was the light within them too strong to diminish _just_ yet? Was it right to fight for them - _with them -_ or had this cruel world taken more from them than their soul could take?

Beth Greene had seen them all; lived their ecstasy, consoled their agony, held them together when all hope seemed lost. She _knew_ people almost as well as she knew their animals. As a child she had always been able to see when a person's beloved pet wasn't going to make it, even before her father had told her to go and find Annette, her mother, for some sweets so that she didn't have to see him deliver those damning words.

 _I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do._

As a child she had sworn that she would change that when she grew up. When _she_ got bigger, she would save them. It wasn't enough to save most of them, she had to save every single one.

M _y little ray of sunshine,_ her father had called her with a small smile.

She didn't understand the concept of true pain, had never looked into the eyes of someone who had fought their battle and lost. The knowledge that sometimes there is kindness in death wasn't available in any of her father's veterinary books. It wasn't a lesson that could be learnt from study and it wasn't a lesson that she would learn until she turned fifteen and Annette was diagnosed with Leukaemia. The disease had plagued her mother for two years and finally, Beth could see the issue with saving everyone, with throwing every treatment at them in order to keep them alive for as long as possible.

Finally she saw that keeping alive a being whose only constant was the agony of hopelessness was crueler than allowing them the dignity of death.

She saw it in her mother's tired expression, her usually bright blue eyes had always seemed to hold all the answers to the world. Those eyes had dulled, the rich blue diluted with red and yellow where her organs had started to fail.

Beth had _understood._

As her small family had gathered she had seen it. She had seen as Annette's small frame found the release of pain that it had been so desperately seeking. At the end, there had been no pain, just love and the knowledge that Annette's spirit would remain with them long after her physical body was gone.

Beth had felt as though she were a different person leaving that hospital. Gone the childish belief that the world was perfect. Her first heartbreak, the first time the world had truly twisted into something lustreless.

 _Tainted_.

And it hadn't even been from a boy.

She had lost her mom and a part of herself with her departure. But with it, she had gained a determination and a wealth of knowledge that she could go on and better help both the animals and also their people.

She was still her father's little ray of sunshine, but she was _strong._

Throughout high school and college, her grades never wavered. To the outside world, Beth Greene was still perfect. Beautiful, patient, smart, _kind._ She had a life, a career, a boyfriend; in the eyes of everyone else she had it all figured out.

In the eyes of Beth Greene, everything was crumbling.

June 29th should have been just any day, the date was nothing special; no big occasion, which was why Beth couldn't understand how everything had gone to shit so quickly.

Her boyfriend was moving his things out of their apartment and there was a mob enforcer bleeding all over the floor of the clinic's examination room.

-o-

Woodbury, Georgia was a small town located on the outskirts of Atlanta. It was a quiet, picturesque town often referred to as somewhere people come to retire in peace, surrounded by vast open spaces and the gentle chug of the occasional tractor. Its residents knew each other by name, attended the same church, the same celebratory parties and events.

A homely town, undisturbed by the hustle and bustle of the nearby city. Close enough to be a convenient commute for its younger residents, but far enough to escape the constant buzz of activity. It was a town of white front porches and rope swings, beautiful in both the glorious summer sunshine and also the icy cold of the winter snow. Children grew up in jeans and cowboy boots, either running or riding around with their friends, teenagers could be found climbing down trees or trellis' to escape the watchful eyes of their parents.

Beth Greene had always lived there, the first twenty two years in her parent's farmhouse and then in an apartment in the center of the small town with her long term boyfriend, a local police officer, Shane Walsh. She lived for the freedom of the countryside, exploring the grassy woodland or galloping across the open fields on horseback with her blonde hair streaming behind her. Never the wild child like her sister, Maggie, other than in those moments of pure bliss, where nothing mattered other than her, the horse between her thighs and the dirt trail that she had ridden many times throughout her life.

She remembered one of Annette's old sayings.

 _Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt, for there's nothing truer or more dependable than an old dirt road._

The city was different. Loud, busy and devoid of the influx of colour that was found in Woodbury. There was too many people, all of them strangers to both Beth and each other. But her father loved his animal clinic, loved the small community within it.

Beth had graduated from college as a veterinary nurse, originally specialising in small animals, but studying through an open college course to be able to also work with horses. The years of study involved in becoming a vet had never appealed to her, not wanting to spend so long away from home, instead preferring the hands on approach that came with her nursing course, especially with her father being alone in the clinic with only their receptionist, Karen, and their overnight vet, Andrea, to keep him in order.

Her father had never been the most organised of men when it came to paperwork, so why should the clinic's medical records be any different?

Beth adored her job, she really did, but whenever she looked at the piles of paperwork that were left to both her and Karen, she mentally revised her opinions on pyromania. She often stayed late on Fridays to do any leftover paperwork so that they could have a quick dart when the surgery closed at midday on Saturdays, and June 29th was no exception.

Usually it was dedication that kept her there until well after 10pm, but today it was an avoidance technique; she didn't want to go home to her now empty apartment. Or, even worse, to still find Shane clearing out his things. It had been a bad day all around, an operation going awry when a cat had had arrived having been hit by a car and her heart had given out before any action could be taken, followed by a stray text, meant for her boyfriend's secret lover that had accidentally found its way to her.

Beth didn't want to go back to the apartment, to the place where Shane had taken other women. She couldn't bear to go back to the bed where he had seduced someone else.

Yep, it had been a shitty day through and through, Beth thought as she filed the last of her paperwork, rubbing at her eyes wearily and ignoring the pricks of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her when she glanced at the photograph on the wall. Her and Shane the previous winter, all smiles and laughter as she flicked snow at him.

Deep in the memory, she didn't hear the quiet ding of the clinic's doorbell, hadn't even realized that she'd forgotten to lock it until the shadow fell across the doorway, snatching her out of her reminiscing with a startled gasp.

"What are you doing?" Beth breathed, her right hand flying towards the tray of surgical utensils to grasp at a scalpel when she caught sight of the man before her.

Long, unkempt dark hair fell partially over his eyes, facial hair that was a few days past stubble was flecked with red– _blood,_ a small voice from the part of her brain that wasn't reeling in terror supplied. He was dressed in dark blue jeans, ripped at the knee and covered in what Beth could only hope was mud. The sleeveless evergreen coloured shirt was covered by a similarly sleeveless leather vest that was frayed around the edges and looked as though it had seen better days. Beth recognised the tattoo on his left forearm, the angel wings framed by a crossbow was a symbol of one of Atlanta's local gangs, infamous in the area for property and bank theft as well as the occasional sale of moonshine.

And she'd left the front door of a clinic full of easily sellable medicinal drugs open.

 _Shit._

Her breath came in a shaky gasp as the man shuffled, his right shoulder leaning against the wall, but he didn't move toward her.

"What do you want? I don't have access to the safe. If you leave I won't call the cops," she told him, hating the quake in her voice and gripping the scalpel more tightly to stop the tremor in her hands.

He wasn't advancing on her like she thought he would, and on second glance, she couldn't see a visible weapon- not that that was anything to go on. His shoulders were rounded and stiff as though he were in pain, rather than square and threatening, and his fists clenched at his sides.

"I ain't gonna hurt ya, girl," the man's voice, gruffer – _huskier_ –than she imagined it would be, broke through her thoughts and her eyes flew once more to his face.

"W-what?"

"I said I ain't going to hurt you. I need- I need help. This ain't a robbery so you can put that down," the man tilted his head towards her hand.

"You need help?" Beth narrowed her eyebrows, noting once again the blood tinging his facial hair and the dark patches on his clothing.

Not mud then after all.

Her gaze travelled down his torso, to the clenched fists, noting the darkness there and then moving downwards once more to see a drop of blood on the white floor tiles.

"You're bleeding," she remarked, not quite ready to drop the scalpel just yet.

How many movies had she seen where the bad guy convinced the woman that he was harmless only to grab her as soon as she let her guard down? Beth felt a spike of panic as she realized that she mostly likely couldn't overpower him; he had the advantage of both height and strength.

But he _is_ bleeding, and quite heavily by the looks of it, her brain supplied unhelpfully.

"Look." He took a step forward, stopping when she jumped backwards and opened his bloody palms out to her. "No weapons."

Flinching, he grasped the edge of his leather vest and pulled it open, exposing both the bloody shirt and also the lack of a gun.

"I won't beg, and I'll go if you ask me to," he promised, meeting her eyes for the first time since she had noticed him.

Blue, a deep, rich colour that didn't match the hard lines of his face.

"Show me where you're hurt," Beth ordered, raising her chin and fixing him with the sharpest look she could manage, hoping that she managed to pull it off.

Judging by the beginnings of a smirk that pulled at the side of the man's mouth, she hadn't been successful, but he followed her order anyway, pulling his shirt up to reveal the laceration on his side.

From where she stood it looked about four inches long, still oozing blood.

 _Fresh, not clotted yet, but not too deep for him to bleed out._

It would need stitches. She'd never had to stitch a person before, dogs and cats yes, people not so much.

"How did you get that?"

The man's face twisted and he cocked his head to one side.

"Cut myself shaving."

"Of course you did," she replied, feeling one eyebrow raise as she took a cautious step forward, still holding the scalpel.

His hands moved back to his sides, palms wide and flat in what Beth assumed was supposed to be a gesture of reassurance and she stopped, motioning to the examination table. "I'm gonna need you to lie on there, if you wouldn't mind."

"Ain'tya gonna at least buy me a drink first?" He asked, his attempt at sarcasm falling flat when he winced, whether through blood loss or the tug on the cut as he moved, Beth didn't know, but he pulled himself up onto the table and lay back, pulling his shirt up so that she could see.

Close up, the gash looked worse than Beth had originally thought; one edge started directly above his hipbone, curving outwards around his side in what was obviously a knife wound. She slowly set the scalpel down out of his reach before reaching for a pair of surgical gloves.

"Why didn't you go to a hospital?"

"Hospitals require insurance and explanations and I ain't got neither," he said simply, watching her face as she weighed up her options.

The logical part of her brain told her not to get involved, to send him on his way. But the other part of her, the stronger part, told her that that wasn't the way she had been brought up. He hadn't tried to force her to help him, which he easily could have done and technically he hadn't broken in.

 _Everyone deserves a chance,_ her father always said.

Beth just hoped he wouldn't use his chance to kill her.

"What's your name?"

His brow furrowed momentarily in confusion at her question, but the name that came out of his mouth rang true.

"Daryl."

"Well, Daryl, I hope you're not allergic to anaesthetic because otherwise, this is going to hurt like hell," Beth mused, her voice thankfully sounding more confident than she felt.

Daryl's face relaxed, realizing what her words meant and his eyes found her own, gratitude showing within them as he nodded, the movement short and sharp.

"Thank you."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

-o-

"So, Daryl, are you a dog or a cat person?" Beth asked, pulling off two sheets of paper from a nearby pad and starting to quickly jot things down.

"Why does that matter?" Confusion was clear on Daryl's face as his eyes followed her around the room, making no attempt to sit up off of the table.

"We have to account for all medical equipment and drugs, I'm about to use some local anaesthetic, so do you want to be Daryl the dog or Daryl the cat?" Beth shrugged showing him the form, even though she knew it probably made no sense to him.

"Dog, I guess. But hey, you're not going to knock me out or anything right? I can take it, don't need'ta be out for this. I've had worse, jus' couldn't get to the hospital and couldn't get the angle right to stitch myself up."

That was the first time Beth had seen any hint of true emotion from him, discounting sarcasm, and it shocked her that he appeared afraid. _Afraid of what?_ That she would knock him out and call the cops? That she, or someone else, could hurt him whilst he was out?

Beth shook her head at him, pushing her fringe away from her eyes, the loose strands falling from the messy braid after a day of her worrying at it, and scrawled a quick signature on the forms."No, don't worry, it'll just numb the area so that I can stitch you up. Have you had a tetanus shot?"

Daryl propped himself up on one elbow, allowing him to follow her with his eyes as she paced around the room, gathering bits of equipment with the familiar ease of someone who had navigated this room often and placing them beside him.

"I'm going to take your silence as a no, you need to go and get that. It'll cost you around eighty-five bucks without insurance, but if you get sick, it'll cost you a whole load more, especially off an unclean substance like a–" she paused and fixed him with a challenging glance, "–razor. Are you allergic to anything that you know of?"

"Seafood."

Beth snorted and returned to stand beside him, "I don't think that's going to be an issue."

Daryl shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah well, ya never know."

"Lie back," Beth mumbled, reaching out a hand and gently touching Daryl's shoulder, meaning to guide him back down onto the table so that she could begin her examination, but startling when he recoiled, hissing in pain at the movement.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean–"

"It don't matter." He snapped shortly, rubbing at his beard-stubble and lying back in an attempt to look relaxed, betrayed by the clenching of his jaw and the unconscious tightening of the knuckles holding his shirt away from the laceration.

"Okay, um, I'm going to– I'm gonna get started okay? Tell me if you need me to stop. Like, at all. I can stop straight away to give you a minute if you need one. If you feel dizzy or lightheaded at any point, you have to tell me, okay? The last thing I need is you going into shock. I'm already breaking the law by practicing on a human subject, I don't need the paramedics here to witness it." Beth took a deep breath, thinking back to the last time she'd stitched something up.

The dog had been unconscious following keyhole surgery.

 _What if she scarred him badly? What if there was internal bleeding?_

She was sure it wasn't deep enough to be a stab wound, more like the unlucky graze of a knife. Why it had happened, she neither needed nor wanted to know, but she found herself curious as to his background. He had flinched away from her as though expecting a blow, or some other form of force. Maybe it was just the incessant paranoia of being a gang member, constantly on your guard for anything that could go bad.

There was only one other person Beth knew for whom unexpected touch could elicit that kind of response, and that was her father. The result of a childhood dodging bad moods that were followed by blows. The preceding wariness a survival technique.

 _Daryl_.

Beth knew that she was staring, searching his face for some sort of explanation that she was almost certain he would never offer up. And what right did she have to expect him to? She wasn't egotistical enough to believed that he owed her anything; this was a favour, not a debt.

The man on the table regarded her with a steady stoicism, eyes flicking from her face to where her hands gripped the edge of the table, before sighing.

"Look, you don't have to do this. If you give me the needle and thread I can do it myself, I ain't gonna make you do this if you don't want to."

Daryl made to heave himself from the table, the pained tightening of his expression spurring Beth into action.

"No, I can do it– I can. Just, keep still, I need to try and clear up the blood before I can do anything else."

Plunking herself onto a nearby stool, Beth grabbed an antiseptic wipe to try and clean up around the wound, seeing too much blood to try and decipher how badly the laceration was still bleeding.

Daryl didn't flinch when she touched his stomach, but sitting so close, Beth couldn't help noticing the subtle intake of breath and clenching of already constricted hands. She worked as gently as she could, clearing away wet blood on top of dried blood, stroking over the areas with wipes until tanned skin was finally visible beneath the red hue.

He was much fitter than Beth had originally thought. Not ripped like most guys thought attractive. There was no six pack, no bulging muscles on his stomach, but nevertheless he was toned and solid beneath her fingers. His arms were muscled and the dirty black stains on them appeared to be some form of oil. It looked too well sunken in to be blood.

 _So he works with his hands, that would explain the natural definition in his arms._

Shane had always been proud of his steroid induced body, proud to show off his guns, taking his shirt off at every opportunity. Him the social butterfly whilst she was happy to lag behind, comfortable in his shadow. Now the darkness was gone and she felt exposed, vulnerable.

 _Raw_.

Her gaze was drawn to the soft, sparse hair under his navel; the same dark brown colour as his hair, she noted idly, tracing its path with her eyes to where it disappeared beneath the waistline of his jeans and she quickly averted her eyes, refusing to be caught staring at the crotch of a man she had just met. The man who could still decide to mug her, or worse.

His eyes were half closed, thankfully, when she quickly looked across at his face, concentrating on a spot on the ceiling rather than what she was doing, his body still all tense lines and uncertainty, like an animal ready to fight or flee if necessary.

He was good looking, Beth thought, in that rugged grab you against a wall and fuck you kind of way, not that that had ever happened to her.

Sharp cheekbones and intense eyes, a mop of unruly hair with a not quite beard that was slightly lighter in colour than the rest. She couldn't say handsome– no, that wasn't the right word. He was unconventionally attractive, the bad boy image only adding to his appeal.

Feeling her cheeks redden, she turned back to the laceration, dipping a gauze pad into the saline solution and clearing her throat. "This will definitely sting."

"I'll be fine," Daryl replied, giving her a reassuring look despite his increasingly pale complexion.

Beth shook her head, putting the gauze pad down and reaching for the hypodermic needle sat on the tray of tools. "On second thought, I'll numb the area first. I don't think your day needs to get any rougher."

She waited until he nodded before prepping the needle and pushing it numerous times into the skin around the gash and deploying the drug, feeling his eyes on her now and knowing that the scales of control were tipping away from him. Beth could have injected him with a number of drugs and he couldn't have done anything about it. Sedation would have been the smartest thing to do. Knock him out and call the cops, as he had feared she might.

He had trusted her and Beth felt her guard beginning to come down. She was no longer terrified. Scared still, yes. But he didn't seem like the crazy dangerous type.

"You could do with some food, get your blood sugar back up whilst we wait for that to kick in," Beth said, binning her gloves and producing a bottle of Gatorade and a Hershey's bar from one of the cupboards. When it looked like Daryl might argue, she continued. "From your clothes and stomach, it looks like you lost a fair bit of blood, so as soon as you don't feel the pain any more, your adrenaline levels are gonna go through the floor and you're gonna feel like shit if you don't replace some of the electrolytes. At least try to eat and drink some."

With a sigh, Daryl nodded, taking an obedient swig of Gatorade and breaking a piece of chocolate off before offering her some.

"Thanks," Beth smiled slightly, grateful to have something to do with her hands, suddenly fidgeting without the repetitive actions of before.

Daryl seemed to realise, the lines of his face smoothing into something softer as he seemed to really look at her for the first time, not commenting on her ragged appearance, the stains on her scrubs or the fact that Beth felt herself close off at the scrutiny, even when she saw no hint of judgement in his expression.

"So– um, why are you here at this time'a night? Don't clinics like this ever close?" Daryl asked, the small talk seeming a big effort.

"We're open 24 hours through the week, but we close early on Saturdays and we're completely closed Sundays. We have an emergency on-call vet for Sundays. I'm here tonight because my Daddy is no good at paperwork and someone has to help our receptionist out," Beth shrugged, "that and, my apartment isn't somewhere I want to be right now."

Daryl raised an eyebrow, the movement prompting her to continue.

"My boyfriend is moving out– or has moved out– as we speak. Probably heading to his, _other,_ girlfriend's place." Beth didn't know why she was telling him that, she didn't know him, he didn't care. But still, it felt good to tell _someone._

Her Daddy didn't know yet, neither did her brother and sister. But this man, this stranger before her did. He wouldn't judge her, didn't know her enough to judge.

"I'm sorry." Daryl said simply, clearing his throat when she didn't reply and the silence became awkward. "A girl like you won't be on your own for long though, I guess."

Beth heard herself snort and she averted her eyes, shuffling her feet and biting back the bitter reply that threatened to spill from her. Daryl bent his legs, placing his feet flat on the examining table as opposed to dangling comically over the edge.

"Hey, I think this is pretty numb. I don't hurt so much any more."

Beth smiled apologetically at him, immensely grateful for his perceptiveness. "Great. I'll get on with it and then we can both get out of here. Not exactly party central on a Friday night, right?"

Daryl gifted her a small laugh, the noise seeming to surprise even himself a little and Beth found that she loved the sound of it, sensing the rarity and wanting to lock it away as a souvenir, like a precious gem.

"Not exactly how I planned on spendin' it no," he admitted with a grimace, taking another swig of Gatorade as Beth resumed cleaning the wound.

They fell into a companionable silence, much different to their previous one, this time Beth concentrating on getting any dirt or debris out of the cut and Daryl falling back into what seemed to be his normal state. He wasn't much for small talk it seemed and Beth honestly didn't mind, not sure she could concentrate on maintaining a conversation as well as making sure the sutures were correct.

As far as patients went, Daryl was a good one. He barely moved as she began to stitch him up, watching her hands with vague fascination until she finished, covering the wound with a piece of gauze and taping it into place. Beth was pleased to note that it didn't appear to be bleeding any longer and it was completely clean.

"Okay, done. You can jump down now," she smiled, pulling off the fresh pair of medical gloves and stepping away. "The stitches should dissolve within between 7-10 days and as long as you keep it clean and go get that tetanus booster, you should be okay. Try not to get the bandages wet, I'll send you home with some more and you should change it once a day before bed. Use a saline solution to clean it, which is essentially just salt water rather than iodine or any other heavy duty creams, as they can slow the healing down even more. Be careful if you're planning on lifting anything heavy in case you tear the stitches, and I think that's everything."

"Okay." Daryl accepted the bag of bandage handed to him gratefully, once again meeting Beth's eyes, looking like he wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to.

Beth waited, her breath catching in her throat at the softness in his face. Had no one ever done this guy a favour? Apparently not, if the way he was looking at her was anything to go off.

"Thank you," he mumbled, voice low but eyes full of gratitude.

"You're welcome."

The air between them had grown thick and for a long moment they both stood, just staring at each other and Beth wondered whether he would try to kiss her. He didn't, and Beth wasn't sure whether to be thankful or disappointed. Definitely confused about how she could want it, considering both their circumstances, and _why._ Only an hour ago she had thought he would rob her, but somehow, in the minutes that had passed, and without realising it, Beth had grown comfortable around him. The silent strength that radiated from him which had at first scared her now provided a sense of ease. She almost didn't want him to leave, but when he stepped around her, she let him go, following him silently to the door.

"Stay safe," she told him gently as he exited the clinic.

"You too," he returned the sentiment, pausing before turning back towards her slightly. "And, just so you know, he's an idiot for doing that'ta you."

Beth inclined her head in thanks, eyes finally becoming watery as he began to walk away. She watched him until he turned onto another street before gathering her things and locking the clinic, heading for her beat up old Ford Mustang.

It wasn't until she was finally in her car that Beth actually reflected on what had happened, laughing out loud at the absurdity of the situation.

A gang member bleeding all over her daddy's clinic.

No, not 'a gang member'– _Daryl._

It seemed so wrong to tar someone as evidently complex as Daryl with one brush.

As she drove away, Beth wondered if helping Daryl would cause trouble for them? Would more of them come, expecting the same help and assistance that Daryl had found? But one thing stuck in her mind above everything else.

She hadn't even told him her name.

-o-


End file.
